


Down the Field

by alex4968



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Teacher!Harry, footie!louis, it was also super fun to write, this is entirely fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9905138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex4968/pseuds/alex4968
Summary: Louis, a pro football player of Chelsea, is forced to retire after a severe injury to his foot. After he recovers and is told the news that he'll never play professionally again, he decides to go coach at his old secondary school. Harry, the health teacher, loves to let him know how big of a fan he is.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [svpportive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/svpportive/gifts).



> Thank you for the prompt!! I had tons of fun writing this and it's actually the first thing I've written without any smut in it, haha, so it was an experience for me! I hope you like it :)  
> Unbeta'd as usual, so all mistakes are my own.

The field, throughout the years, has become the place where Louis feels the most comfortable. The way that the wind always feels just right against his face as he’s running, the way he always feels at the top of the world as he’s kicking a ball down the field, the way everyone around him is there for the exact same reason as he is. It’s all an incredible feeling that he isn’t sure there are many ways he can describe.

Several people have told him about how he behaves the moment he’s off the field, that vibrating energy that bounces off of every piece of him as he celebrates just having the chance to go out and play. He’s never much cared if he wins or loses, whether he scores the winning goal or kicks the games fuck up. It’s always been a place of stress relief and fun, whether he’s the one playing or if he’s just watching.

Something about the way each player has to put an effort into each move, how everyone has to think about not only what they’re doing, but what everyone else around them is doing, makes it all the more interesting to watch. It’s such a critical game – something that requires so much thought and consideration for every move – and Louis thinks that’s what makes it fun.

A whistle blows and the coach on the field below him bellows out to the boys on the field that there’s twenty minutes of practice left, and that they’ll be conditioning for the rest of their time. He’s not sure why, but that only really manages to pull a laugh out of him as he leans back, crosses his legs, and watches as most of the boys groan before starting their laps.

He’d played on this same field in Secondary, ran on the same grass, and watched the same numbers turn on the same score board, so it only felt right that this was where he came, in the end. So, sitting on the bleachers and watching his ex-coach have the players run laps around the field feels like he’s exactly where he should be. He remembers being in the same place these boys are at – hating conditioning more than anything and only every wanting to be out on the field kicking around the pitch. Now, of course, he wants nothing more than to thank the exercises that Coach had taught him, both for keeping him in shape for the duration of his career and for making him realize that working out was always worth it, if for nothing other than the rush of endorphins afterwards.

He leans forward as one particularly small boy is shoved over by a larger one, but coach doesn’t say anything about it. They were just running about, but it had been clear that the shove had been entirely intentional, meant to make the boy fall over, not just for fun.

There are a few parents sitting in the bleachers, too, most of them typing away on their phones and only a few pretending to be interested in watching their children practice. None of them seemed to notice or care about the shove, so he forces himself to sit back and not pay any more attention to it.

The next fifteen minutes go by before Louis decides it’s time for him to go. No one’s said a word to him, or each other for that matter, so the only sound on the field is the occasional blow of a whistle and the sound of feet against turf.

Louis sighs and stands, stabilizing himself on the railing for a moment. He’s fine now – three years after his injury – but it still aches and twists a bit each time he stands after sitting for too long. Practice is almost over, anyway, so he walks off the field with a friendly wave to the assistant coach on his way out. His first day comes Tomorrow – the last Saturday practice before season starts – but he’s decided that sitting in on a practice would be a good way to be a little more familiar with the team before he really gets the chance to meet them.

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves, just gives a friendly wave to coach and gets a smile in return. It’s enough.

 

He starts Saturday afternoon with a handshake to the coach who’d brought him through Secondary. It’s a beautiful day, a very slight overcast that is perfectly dimming the amount of heat that forces its way through the clouds and no wind. He can’t wait to be out on the field.

“It’s good to see you, Louis.” Coach says with a smile. The years really only changed him in his face – deepened wrinkles and a slightly more tired looking expression – but it almost feels strange to be sitting across from him. He thinks the questions about his injuries are still floating in the air and the questions of his ability to play at all are still something he probably wants to ask, but Louis just hopes he won’t. Conversations always seem to take on some kind of awkward turn after someone brings it up.

Coach is retiring this coming year, though, after the six week holidays end and after almost a full twenty-five years coaching.  

“It’s good to see you, too, coach.”

They make idle small talk for just a while, before they finally start to discuss why they’re both really here. Louis just wants to ask questions about the boys, to see what he needs to work on, and he’s sure Coach is just ready to leave.

“I wish I could say the team was as good as when you were here, Tomlinson.” Coach Bryers says with a shake of his head. It’s an hour before any of the kids will be at the school, so they’re sitting in the teacher’s lounge and chatting over a cuppa. “These kids don’t care about the game. There’s no motivation. We haven’t won a game with our varsity team in three years and the junior varsity kids for even longer. It’s hard on the kids, joining a team they know won’t be winning.” Louis furrows his eyebrows as he listens to his old coach talk and sips his tea.

“Well, maybe that’s the problem. Do all of them only care about winning? Do any of them really care for the game?” Coach just shrugs, like he’s defeated, and Louis suddenly feels all the more determined to make the team better. “I’m gonna head out and get changed, then. Are you sticking around or is today your last day?”

“My last day was yesterday, Tomlinson, but I thought I would come have a chat with you before today. Good luck.”

“Thanks, coach.” He gets a nod in response before he’s out the door, walking down the hallways to get to the field. The building is bigger than he remembers, or maybe it’s just been too long since he’s been here for him to really be able to remember everything. He’s looking at the art along the walls, seeing all of the student’s ways they express themselves when there’s a sudden weight against his chest and he’s almost falling back on his arse.

A hand wraps around his arm before he’s able to, though, and he laughs as he balances himself out. He blinks a few times, forcing himself steady from the quick motion. “I’m so – sorry. Oh, gosh. Are you okay?” Louis takes a step back and laughs at himself a moment, then glances up at the other man.

When he says glances _up_ he means it. He’s much taller, probably by at least six inches. His hair is short but pushed back on his head. Then there’s his eyes – a beautiful shade of green that Louis really doesn’t want to look away from.

Be professional, he reminds himself. He can’t just stand and gawk. Manners are something that civilized people are meant to use, right. (He stares for two seconds longer).

“Yeah – yes, I’m fine. Thank you for um, not letting me fall just now. I should have been watching where I was going.” It’s a much less dignified response than he wishes would have come from his mouth, but it works enough. There’s a dimpled-grin on the stranger’s face, and his hand pulls away from where it’s wrapped on Louis’ arm, from where he’d saved him from falling.

“I’m Harry Styles.” The other man says, rather than a response. “Um, the uh, health teacher.”

“You sure about that? You don’t sound so sure.” Louis says with a little grin, watching as Harry Styles gets a light flush on his face and laughs. “I’m Louis Tomlinson. New footie coach.”

“It’s really nice to meet you! Some of the other coaches and I have been um, a little excited since we heard about your place here.” Louis smiles a bit at the compliment. He had been wondering if there was any talk about the _terrible Tomlinson_ coming back to school. He’d been quite the menace in school, so he’s certain he’ll get at least a little hell from some of the teachers that are here that had had him in classes. But, sometimes he also forgets that he was a footie star once and that people actually remember that. “We’re all massive fans like, um, mostly me I guess, honest.” He runs a hand through his hair and that same flush is still on his face. “I’ve probably gone and embarrassed myself now, so I should probably get back to decorating my classroom before I make it worse.” Louis giggles just a little and watches as Harry smiles because of it.

“Well, if you’re still up to embarrass yourself further, maybe swing by after practice this afternoon? We could chat or have a cuppa or … if you’re busy that’s fine of course.” Harry grins again and nods. Louis needs friends, anyway. It’s been too many years since he’s been in Donny for more than two weeks and even longer since he’s been able to form any kind of meaningful relationship outside of the friends he already has.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll swing by. It runs until three thirty on Saturdays, yeah?”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. Maybe I’ll come find you if we end earlier, though.” Harry nods.

“My classroom is 349, on the third floor? Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later!” Louis calls out as he continues walking down towards the field.

 

The first kid shows up at 1:02, two minutes late, and he’s not even got his kit on. He’s lugging a bag that almost looks bigger than he is. Louis’s sat down in the center of the field, right atop of the spot in the center of the circle, with his legs crossed. “You don’t need to change into your kit today, come sit!” He calls out and the boy looks over, as if he’s just noticing that he’s there.

“Oh, alright.” He says softly, then comes and sits on the outline of the circle. He sets his bag behind him and leans against it. “You’re our new coach, then?”

“Yup, that’s me. You can call me Louis, or coach, or coach Tomlinson, whatever you like.”

“Okay. I’m Miles.”

“Does everyone usually show up this late?” He asks, looking around again.

“Oh, yeah, usually I’m the first one here. Most of the boys will get here around half past and we usually start practice around two, since it takes everyone a bit to change and chat.” Louis hums at this new information, nodding.

“Well, since you’re the only one here, I won’t force you to listen to my speech twice.” He starts, adjusting his leg a bit so it doesn’t cramp. “Do you have any questions or anything you’d like to ask?”

“Are you going to help us win? I’m really quite tired of playing and never even scoring a point.”

“I’m going to try my best. I can promise you’ll win at least one game before you’re done here, alright?” The boy’s smile is enough to make him feel better about being here.

 

A cluster of five boys show up about ten minutes later, pushing and shoving each other about as they walk, laughing and clearly taking their time. They’ve each got bags in their arms, the same way Miles had, but all of them are clearly bigger and older. “Hello, boys!” He calls out. “No need to change today, we’re just going to chat. Come sit.” The boys give him a strange look, but they all come and sit down anyway. “We’re going to sit here until half past, since I’ve heard that’s when everyone usually starts showing up, and anyone who isn’t here will have to go through season try outs again.”

“What?” One of the boys asks. “We’ve already been through try-outs, with Coach Bryers.” Louis quirks an eyebrow at the boy who spoke. “Who are you to make anyone have to go through them again?”

“Louis Tomlinson, your new coach. Pleasure to meet you.” The boy’s jaw slacks, closes, and then he shuts up. “Would you all tell me your names please? And your team?” He grabs out his notebook and his pencil, ready to write down their pre-season placements.

“Edmund. Varsity.”

“Simon. Varsity.”

“Layne. Varsity.”

“Clarence. Varsity.”

“Parker. Varsity.”

Louis nods and writes it down that the five of them are all on Varsity beneath the pre-season column. He’s not going to make any of these boys go through another formal tryout, but he certainly isn’t going to just allow them all to stay on the same teams unless they deserve it. Miles is on c-team, despite having been playing for five years, he’s learned. He seems passionate, so he can only hope that he has the skills to match.

Several other boys trickle in before half past one, and the circle around Louis is almost full. He checks his watch and waits, right until the big hand hits 1:30, then he claps his hands together.

“All right, since everyone is here now, let’s get started. I’m Louis Tomlinson, yes, _that_ Chelsea player who got injured two years ago. I’m fine now, perfect physical conditions, so yes I can coach you fine. I can definitely see that there are a few things here that you’re all used to, like a loss of punctuality that I’m not sure is from Bryers not enforcing participation or not, but I just want you all to know I won’t have any of it without reason. If you’re here and you’re _not_ interested and don’t enjoy playing football, there’s no reason for you to be here, yes?” He gets a few murmuring agreements. “So, each of you then, I want you to tell me your name, your team, and why you’re here.”

He goes around the circle and listens to each of them. He gets several answers that seem genuinely passionate, like those are the kids who are truly here because they enjoy football and want to be here, but then there are a few who sound like they’re here because it’s just a hobby. That’s entirely fine – he’s fine with that. Having hobbies is perfectly acceptable, but those are just the people he can’t foresee on his varsity team.

“All right, I’m Louis, or coach, Coach Tomlinson, whatever you want to call me. I’m here because I was on these same fields you’re all on right now, just over thirteen years ago. I love football and I think it’s one of the things I look forward to doing the most. I know you lot have had a rough few seasons, but I want you all to know that I’m here to help you all get past this little slump of losing you’ve had. But winning isn’t everything. The main point is that you’re all out there, doing something you enjoy, yeah?” He smiles. “So do any of you have any questions for me?”

“Do we have to do laps today?” Louis laughs, a little smile on his face.

“Not today. Today we’re just having our chat.”

“How long are we going to be here, then?”

“Until I say you can go?” The boy rolls his eyes and Louis quirks an eyebrow. “Okay, so _you’re_ going to be running laps. Two around the field, then. Off you go.” The boy’s mouth opens, an offended look coming across his face as he stares at Louis, but he doesn’t move. “Did I not say it loud enough for you, Austin? Run two laps around the field.” He huffs, but then stands and gets to his running.

It’s then, at 1:53, that two more boys casually stroll onto the field. They come over to the circle and plop down, still talking as they do.

“Hello, boys.” He says and they then decide to look at him. “I’m sorry, but this practice is for members of our school’s football team only.”

“We _are_ members of the team.” One of them says, his voice with a snide tone.

“Well, actually,” He claps his hands together and then looks at his watch, “Practice started fifty-three minutes ago, so I believe you’re no longer a part of this team. Should you chose to come back Monday, you’re welcome to try out again.”

“That’s bullshit. You can’t kick us off when no one told us we couldn’t be late.”

“Goodbye, boys.” They both get up after that, scowls on their faces and storm away. It’s completely silent for a moment, but then everyone looks at him. “I don’t mean to be harsh, but I really don’t care for a team of people who don’t want to be here. Show me you want to be here, and I’ll show you that being here is fun.”

No one else has any questions, so he decides that the kids can either stick around and hang out, mess about and just have a bit of fun, or they can go home. All of the ones he expected would leave are gone as soon as he says they can (like the boy he made run), but the rest of them stick around.

“So who wants to team up, my team against another?”

“How about all of us against you?”

“Well, I’ll need a goal keeper. Miles?” The boy smiles and nods enthusiastically, then runs over to the goal. There’s no formation in this, nothing formal about it, but he says a few grins on the boy’s faces so he feels pretty decent. “Alright. First to two?”

“You’re awfully cocky, coach.”

“Who said I’m cocky? Me? Never.” With twelve kids against him he’s pretty sure he’ll lose, but he can hope. There’s a mixture of varsity, junior varsity, and the c-team kids all up against him, but he’s not going to exploit that. He knows this should be played honestly.

They all warm up together, doing a series of stretches and then Louis does a few laps with all of them, just to make sure no one hurts themselves, and then they’re on. The kids serve the ball first, and Louis runs with it.

 

It’s almost thirty minutes before Louis scores his second goal. He’s sweaty and his legs feel tighter from all of the running, but all of the kids look happy. “Holy shit.” One of the older kids says, bent over and resting against his knees. “How is it that you’re shorter than the lot of us and you can run faster?”

“Practice. You’ll all be learning how I exercise regularly, and if you all chose to use it, you could run as fast one day.”

“I’m starting to doubt all this a little less, coach. Thanks, really.” He gives a little smile.

“Remember everyone, punctuality is expected on Monday. 3:30pm sharp after your lessons and I need you all in your kits by then. Try and get some decent boots, preferably new, but if you can’t that’s fine. Tell any of your friends if they’re interested in joining to come by Monday. That’s when we’ll have our first set of informal try-outs.”

Everyone starts to leave after that, so Louis reaches into his bag and pulls out his water bottle and one of his pain relief tablets. He holds it in his palm and tosses it back into his mouth, followed with a swig of water before there’s a small voice from behind him. “Coach?” He turns around and is faced with a smaller looking boy, Miles standing right beside him. “Can I um, can we talk?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“So like um, Coach Bryers let me play and like,” The boy is stuttering, clearly unsure. “I know some people probably wont because I’m like, biologically female, so I just um, wanted to see if that’s all right with you? Like, to stay on the boys team. Because I really enjoy football and I-“

“Hey,” Louis starts, a soft smile on his face. “You go by James right?” He nods. “You consider yourself male, so that’s how I’ll see you, too. The only thing I ask is that you take your binder off right after practice, because it could hurt your back otherwise. And I’m not entirely sure, but if you can find a sports version, that would be best. I care about your safety, mentally and physically, yeah?”

“Thanks, coach.” He says with a smile. “See you Monday!” he and Miles both call out at the same time as they’re walking off.

Walking in to Harry’s classroom, he runs smack into the other man all over again. Louis’ face smashes right into his chest and he flings back up against the wall before tripping over his own feet. Really smooth for a football player, if he doesn’t say so himself. “Oh, my God.” Harry says. “This is – You’re clearly destined to fall every time you see me.” Louis stands up with a little laugh, only wincing a little at the pain in his bum.

“You should really take me out to dinner before you talk about me falling for you, curly.” Harry’s face turns red almost immediately, making Louis laugh. “Joking. But, yes, it would be nice if we could stop _literally_ running into each other.” A look around the classroom shows that Harry has definitely decorated his classroom, and it shows exactly how much he takes pride in being good to the people around him.

There’s a sheet of butcher paper on the wall with a bunch of colorful envelopes, and in bubble letters on the top it says _random acts of kindess!_ Then there are little instructions on the side. _Take a card, make an impact, take a picture for extra credit!_

“So, how about some tea, then? There’s a nice little shop down the road if you want or like, the teacher’s lounge of course.” Harry says with a shy smile.

“The coffee shop sounds nice, actually.” Harry nods.

“Cool! It’s always nice to go somewhere new.”

 

The walk to the coffee shop was easy, with small talk exchanged between them without any hesitation. Harry, as it turns out, is really easy to talk to. He’s got this charismatic personality that compensates in every way for Louis’ slightly reserved and serious one, and he thinks they compliment each other better than he could have hoped. So, he’s sitting with Harry in the soft chairs by a fireplace in the small café that he’d led him to, legs crossed and listening to Harry talk about how he’s excited to get back to work.

“The summers are usually pretty boring for me, actually. Like, it’s just a month and a half of being bored, honest.”

“I understand that, I’ve been sitting at home with nothing better to do for the last few months. It gets a little overwhelming to have nothing to do. Like, I have so many things I _could_ do, but then once I do them… they’ll be boring or summat. I’m not even sure what my thought process is right now.” He laughs at himself quietly, thinking he’s gone and embarrassed himself, but Harry is still looking at him with this sparkle in his eyes and a dimple in his cheek.  

“Have you lived here very long?”

“No, actually. I just moved here three or so weeks ago. My lease ended in my loft up in London and it was too big for just me anyway. Downsizing felt really nice.” He pauses, “Which was probably really rude to talk about, God. I’m sorry. I’m used to being around people who make the same amount of money as me so talking about it isn’t taboo and –“

“Louis, it’s okay.” Harry says with a laugh. “It’s not like I’m naïve to the fact that a footie player has money. There’s no offence taken.” Louis smiles; something about being with Harry just makes him feel so much better.

By the time Louis’ finished his tea, he still doesn’t really want to leave. It’s never been like this before – he’s never really had such a strong desire to want to be around a person for long periods of time. Liam and Niall are really the only two friends he’s ever made that have stuck around for longer than a few years, so he’s started taking his friendships lightly. People almost always just want to use him for his money or, for a while, for free tickets to games.

Harry doesn’t seem like that, though. He goes on talking about how he used to work here when he was younger, how he used to be the one who would make all the pastries and cakes that are sitting in the glass box. Louis feels good. He feels like he’s found a place he can stay for a while.

He feels like he could get used to this.

 

They hang out again the next day. When Louis had texted him and asked if he wanted to, he’d almost been worried that he was going to come off as too clingy – but when Harry had said he had been thinking about texting him, too, he felt much better.

Instead of out to a coffee shop, like planned once again, they ended up spending the day sitting around in a park. “I used to come here when I was a kid. All the time.”

“Really?” Harry asks, a little smile on his face. “I didn’t know you grew up here.”

“Yeah. I went to Hayfield for secondary.” Harry’s eyebrows shoot up again. “Careful you’re going to lose those in your hairline if you don’t stop acting so surprised.”

“I’m just. That’s really nice of you, to come all the way back home so you can coach those kids. I moved here for the quiet. It’s so much nicer here than it was in Reddich but everyone’s told me that the charm wears off and no one really comes back. I don’t see why.”

“Most people don’t. Almost all the kids I went to secondary with are long gone, now. Liam was my mate who played footie, he still plays but he said he won’t ever come back. I guess I’m just a sentimental shit who likes to be around my family.”

“What’re they like?”

“Definitely the most important thing in my life. I’m the oldest of seven. My mum’s an absolute sweetheart, my favorite woman in the world. I’m going home this weekend and I’m definitely excited. What’s your family like?”

“My sister is a few years older than me, but she’s my only sibling. My mum’s a sweetheart as well, definitely. We all get along very well and every holiday we are all required to go home and have a week long family board game night. It’s really great.” Harry is still smiling as he’s talking, that same little dimple popping out on his cheek. Talking with Harry is just too easy. He’s not sure what it is about him, but they’ve known each other two days and Louis already feels more comfortable than he does with some people he’s known for weeks.

When Harry walks him back to his flat and drops him off at the door, he says goodbye with a shy smile that – he hopes – doesn’t show the teenager-esque butterflies that are wiggling in his stomach.

 

Monday goes better than he’d thought it would. All of the kids that had been there for their little chat – beside the kid he’d made run – show up, plus some. The turn out is great, and he is happy to meet all of the kids who had come with their friends. “All right everyone, anyone who’s already tried out, you can sit off until tomorrow. Anyone new wanting to try out, come on out to the field with me.” He’s followed by a few more than a dozen kids, all trotting behind him, and he almost feels like a duck for a moment. A duck guiding little chicks to learn how to kick a ball properly. “I’m gonna start you all off with some stretches, a few yards of running, and then some basic dribbles. I promise these aren’t what are going to determine your teams, unless you can’t handle the running, which, I’m sorry about that, but these are just to get us started, all right?” He doesn’t get any unenthusiastic responses, not even when he makes the boys run, so he’s happy.

The other kids are enthusiastic for the kids trying out, cheering them on and being supportive, and it makes Louis feel good. He’s starting to think that he is really going to love every second of his job.

The boys that haven’t played aren’t the worst players he’s ever seen. Not exactly. But they aren’t the best, either. He has a feeling that most of them will wind up on his c-team, but there’s certainly no shame in that. That team isn’t there to shame anyone, just to help his players learn the motions of the sport because they aren’t ready for varsity level coaching yet.

About an hour into practice, he decides to pull in the rest of the kids and let them kick around. He sets up proper teams against one another, formations of eight and a mixture of all three teams on each side, and tells them first to score won’t have to run laps. The kids who haven’t played before get their chance to sit down while they watch, all laughing a bit at how frantic the kids look as they play for their goal of not running laps.

As promised, he doesn’t make the winning team run, but he does make them inflate the rest of the balls. He doesn’t get any real complaints, but laughs when they think they’ve been cheated.

He runs laps with the kids, though, because he’s right there with them and he also has always really enjoyed running.

 

Tuesday comes and the kids are finally going to properly try out. He starts with the kids who think they belong on varsity, bringing them all out and asking them what position they’d like to play. He swaps several of the kid’s positions that they’d thought they were comfortable with half way through their plays, switches them back, then switches them around again. He doesn’t like to see a player that is only comfortable in one position.

Ten out of the sixteen kids that had tried out for varsity made it on. The rest of them were placed into junior varsity and promised that there would be a chance to try again in a few months. Then he moved on to the jv kids and did the same thing with them.

The c-team kids were easier and all seemed like they were having a little more fun. He just let them kick around for the first ten minutes, then placed them in positions and made sure to explain what each positon did for each of the kids who didn’t know.

“All right! The list will but up in the locker-room by the time practice starts tomorrow.” He says and watches several grins break out. “If any of you have any problems with the team you’ve been put on, you’re more than welcome to come talk to me, but if you haven’t been put on Varsity and want to be, you’re going to have to go up against me and win to get on. If that doesn’t suit your fancy, there will be a chance for two kids to go on Varsity each month, but keep in mind that each kid that gets put on, one has to come off. So keep yourselves conditioned.”

“Wait, coach, you mean like, our spots are competitive?” One kid asks. He’s from jv, though, so Louis doesn’t think he’s actually anything but curious.

“Of course. I don’t believe in forcing you in one spot because of how you played on one day at the beginning of season. Until we start practicing for playoffs in three months, none of your placements are permanent.” Most of the kids leave after he’s done with his speech, and that’s fine. His muscles ache just a bit in his thighs and he thinks he’d really just like to go get a cuppa from the teacher’s lounge.

So he does.

Running into Harry there, though, was not what he expected. He checks his watch and finds that it’s nearly two hours after school hours have let out, and Harry is just sitting there and marking papers. “Hi, Harry.”

“Hi Lou!” He says, dropping his pen and smiling.

“You’re here a bit late? Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m the leader of the GSA here after school, and every Tuesday my roommate tends to um, ask me to not come home to the flat until after five. So I thought I’d mark some papers.”

“Papers on the second day of school?” He’s only teasing, but Harry rolls his eyes.

“Oh, yes. I’m the big-bad-health teacher. I made them all fill out this work sheet about themselves, yet most of them just doodled on it.”

“That sounds like something I would have done in school.” He says with a laugh. “I was a menace when I was these kid’s age.”

“How was your practice?”

“It went really well. I have two boys who seem to act like jocks and will probably be disappointed when they realize they didn’t make varsity, though.” Harry makes a face at that that makes Louis laugh. It’s been a good day.

 

With Wednesday comes conditioning day. He doesn’t require these days for actual practice, the required days being every day except Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, but he knows that they help the kids who do show up.

He works them pretty hard, lets all of them request songs as they go, and by the time he’s done his entire body feels like jelly.

When he gets to his flat, he thinks he might get a cat. Or maybe a dog. It’s just a little too lonely in here without someone else.

 

Thursday’s practice ends quickly, and when Louis goes to get his bag, he _almost_ runs into Harry again. This time, though, he sees his feet before he actually runs into him, and stops. “Ha!” He says and goes to thrust a cheerful fist in the air since he didn’t smash into Harry, but then he accidentally hits the other man right in the chin, and then _Harry_ topples over.

“I suppose I deserved that.” He says with a laugh.

“Oh, shit. I am so sorry, fuck. This really isn’t – there really isn’t a whole lot of luck for us meeting up, is there?”

“I suppose not.” Harry’s laughing as he stands up, though, and that makes him feel at least a little better about it. “I know you didn’t mean to. It’s all right.”

“Okay, good.”

“I’m actually pretty giddy just because I got to watch you out on the field again. Not to sound like a little fan or anything, but that’s exactly what I am.”

“Would you like my autograph, Harry?” Harry puts a hand to his forehead and Louis giggles.

“Oh, my, I think I might faint. An autograph! I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

“Oh, of course. You know not everyone gets my attention, Styles. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Would I maybe be lucky enough to be able to take you out for another tea sometime? Maybe this weekend?” Louis tries to think of some kind of sassy remark – something about how Harry is _clearly_ asking him on a date – but he really, actually doesn’t want to ruin it. He came out in the fourth year of playing professional footie, and considering that Harry has told him several times about how much of a fan he is, he’s almost certain that he knows. So he just kind of stares for a moment, trying to figure out how he can phrase a _yes!_ Without sounding too excited. “Or not, like. Um. I’m sorry. That was too forward, right? I should um – go. I’m sorry. Sorry.”

“Wait I – no! Not too forward at all.” He sputters out, dignity aside. “I just like, was kind of surprised. Like, you’re asking me on a date right?”

“Yeah – you’re sure it’s not weird?”

“I don’t think it’s weird at all.” Harry smiles again. “Unexpected, for sure, but not weird.”

“I know, I just felt a little out of your league, is all.” Harry pauses, then he starts laughing, a big dimpled smile on his face. “Get it? League? Like, football league.” Louis rolls his eyes and groans, but he can’t help the little giggle that comes from his mouth.

“You’re the worst.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you’re not a pun guy? If you don’t like puns maybe you like knock knock jokes?”

“Oh, God, no. Stick with the puns, please!” He says with another laugh. Harry looks over at him, clearly trying to hold back his own laughter before he honks out a laugh and his face turns red.

“I cannot believe I just made that noise.” He says through laughs. “I’m going to die. That was so embarrassing.”

“I thought it was cute.” He says with a grin, pulling his jacket on over his kit. Harry beams and his entire face seems to light up. “Now, walk me to my car, Styles. Be a proper gentleman.”

“Of course. Right this way.” He says, an over exaggerated motion of his hands in the process. Louis feels giddy again.

 

“You’re being dramatic, Lou. You look good. He just asked you on coffee. It’s not like you’re getting married.” Liam says with an eyeroll, his face only half-visible on the screen. Liam stays in London for the off season of footie and moves around the rest of the year, just like Louis used to. But through the skype camera, he still picks and prods at his outfit and asks Liam at least a dozen questions that he won’t get answers to about whether or not he looks good.

“He’s so – he’s the type that looks good in _everything_ Liam, I have to actually try to make myself look good. You’re really not helping!” He is being dramatic, honestly, but he also really doesn’t care. It’s what gives him his charm.

“Fine, sweetheart, you look wonderful and it makes your arse look great and the blues accentuate your eyes.” Liam says, fluttering his eyelashes with an obviously fake smile. The pan he’s cooking with makes a hissing sound and Louis flops back on his bed.

“Thanks, dear. I just love how kind you are to me!” He really is out of any other possible outfits he would possibly wear, though, so he knows this is what he will have to go with. It’s a light blue button down, done all the way up to his neck aside from the top button, and a pair of tight black skinny jeans. Whenever he’d go out to the clubs and pull with Zayn they’d call them his fucking trousers, because he almost always got laid when he wore them. So it almost kind of seemed like a bad idea to wear them, considering he’s not sure at all of what Harry’s intentions are, but at least he looks good. “I guess I have to head out now, though. Talk to you later Li.”

“Bye, Lou. Love you!”

“Love you too!” So he heads out and presses the button on the lift, then pulls out his phone as he waits for it to come to his floor to take him down. He’ll probably be ten minutes early, but that’s always been something he does. He’s early to just about everything, always.

The drive to the café would probably only take ten minutes if Doncaster traffic wasn’t so wicked every moment of the day. He loves this city, really. Every time he’s come out here to play on a field or just for a little time home, he’s always told himself he’d come back here one day.  It’s his home. These are the same streets he’d walked on, learned to drive on, had fun with mates on, and it’s all just – perfectly nostalgic.

The drive ends up taking just a little over twenty-two minutes (with parking time included) and just under twenty-five for Louis to be inside of the building. He catches sight of Harry almost as soon as he walks in, his tall, lean figure standing right up at the counter and chatting away eagerly with the woman standing on the other side. He looks right in his lane – like he’s happy being able to talk to someone.

“Hi, Harry!” He says as soon as there’s a lull in the conversation between the two of them. He turns immediately and Louis’ breath catches in his throat. He’s got this white blazer on, the top five or so buttons undone enough to reveal a set of tattoos and beautifully milky-white skin.

“Hey!” He says happily.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Oh, no. You’re not. I was early. What do you want?”

“You don’t have to pay for me H-“

“I asked you on this date and I will be a proper gentleman about it.” Louis blushes – unsure exactly what to say – so he just nods instead. Harry seems to just want to continue to surprise him.

“Well – alright then.” He can feel a slight blush on his cheeks, but Harry just grins. “I’ll have a Yorkshire tea, splash of cream no sugar.”

He and Harry sit once their drinks are done, and Louis doesn’t even know what to say when Harry links their feet together. He’s not sure if it’s intentional, but the ankle that the other boy decides to hook his foot around is his good one, too. It feels oddly teenager-ish, but he isn’t even complaining. Harry makes him feel good.

“You said you came from a big family right?”

“Yeah.” Louis says with a smile.

“Do you want kids, then? Or are you all kidded out?” He’s not sure if that’s a question that would really be considered appropriate for a first date, but then he remembers how old they are. He’s turning twenty seven soon, so the discussion of kids is definitely something that he probably should bring up.

“I definitely want kids one day, for sure. Maybe in two or three years, when I decide to buy a house and settle down for good. You?”

“Yeah – for sure. I love kids. Always have.” Louis nods and takes a sip of his tea with a smile. They end up talking again for hours, the time flying by without either of them noticing, and everything feels wonderful. He’s happier than he’s been since he quit footie – something that had pushed him into almost a full year long depression – and he knows it’s because he’s surrounded by good company and he’s able to play footie again. Everything feels good.

 

He and Harry are together more than they’re apart, after that. Harry starts coming to two practices every week and then they hang out afterwards for a few hours. He almost always feels bad when Harry ends up staying at the school building for four hours after the school day has ended, but the curly haired boy has never complained.

It's a week later when they’re sitting outside, Louis sweaty and probably a little smelly from running three miles with his boys, when he decides to invite Harry to his flat. “Do you want to come over to mine? We could watch a film and maybe order in? I’m pretty shite at cooking or else I’d offer to cook.”

“That sounds really nice. Sure.” Louis smiles and he really feels giddy.

 

Harry obviously tries to hide his shock when he goes into Louis’ flat. Downgrading, maybe, had been a slight over exaggeration. He knows that growing up in Donny, the housing here is very expensive, so even his low-highend flat probably looks incredible to Harry. This place still costs less than a third of what his rent had been in London, though.

Harry holds his jacket in his arms and actually takes his shoes off, making Louis laugh. “You don’t have to act like you’re scared to break anything, Harry. It’s all accident proofed, since there are children running through here whenever my mum comes by.” He actually gets a smile out of that, and Harry follows suit when Louis just tosses his jacket over the couch.

He plops down on the chair and motions for Harry to sit with him, and they end up watching Love, Actually. Apperantly it’s one of Harry’s favorite films, and he gets a nice cuddle while they’re watching it, so he’s happy.

Harry’s hands are big and warm where they rest against his side. He smells nice and when Louis leans his head against his shoulder, just trying to get comfortable, he doesn’t entirely realize he’d fallen asleep until Harry is jostling him, telling him that their food is there.

“Oh, my God. I just fell asleep in the middle of our date.” His face is flaming, embarrassment completely obvious. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was actually really cute. You know you snore a little?”

“I do not snore!” Harry grins, the same dimpled smile he’s come to love, and rolls his eyes.

“Oookay, whatever you say. I mean, it’s totally not like I got a video or anything.”

“You did not! I’m going to kick your arse!” Louis says, mock offended.

“Okay, I didn’t. I just wanted to tease.” Harry sticks his tongue out and Louis gets a strong urge to kiss him, so he does. Harry kisses back and the night is officially the best he’s had in a long time.

 

The first match comes three weeks later. It’s them against the secondary school twenty kilometers away, both of them notorious for not being very good. It’s almost kind of sad, he thinks, that this school is walking in expecting this team to be the same as they were the year before, but Louis has watched the way his boys have improved just in the last few weeks. Their motivation has skyrocketed, gone up in ways Louis has worried wouldn’t be possible.

Their skills have increased incredibly, too. His teams are playing his moves with ease and running his conditionings without so much as a complaint. They can score goals and pass to each other without a bump. It’s like it’s not even the same team that they were in the beginning of the year.

The score board is lit up and the bleachers are slowly filling with parents from both teams. Some of them have blankets wrapped around their shoulders because the chill is slowly coming out, but he’s buzzing with adrenaline of being able to watch his boys win.

“Okay, boys.” He says, all of them huddled in a circle. “You’ve played these kids before, so you know how they play. I believe in you, completely. I know you can do your absolute best out there and totally smash it. But remember, winning isn’t everything. If you don’t win, that’s okay. We’re still improving. If you do, I’ll still be super proud of you. Now get out there and smash it.”

He goes and sits on the bench as they start, going through his playbook when he feels a hand squeeze his shoulder. When he looks up, he sees Harry and smiles softly. Harry kisses him, just a light little peck on the lips and it makes Louis’ face flame. He’s not entirely used to that, not yet, but he’s getting there. Harry’s slowly become a really important part of his life in the last few weeks, someone he can see himself falling into place with. “I brought you some tea, since it’s a little chilly.”

“Aw, thanks.” Louis says with a little smile. “Do you want to come back to mine tonight?”

“Sure. I’ll have to swing by home and feed Dusty, but I’ll be over after that.” Louis nods. Harry kisses him again and he feels like he’s floating as he gets up and cheers his boys on for the rest of the game.

They completely obliterate the other team. They win four to one.

If Harry asks him to ride him while wearing his Jersey that night, no one has to know except them.

 

“You should really just move in with me, you know.” Louis says without much of a second thought, laying on the couch and tossing a bean bag up and down in the air. It’s Sunday, his free day from practice, and Harry is at the table watching a cooking show as he makes the two of them lunch. “I mean, you already practically live here and I totally love it. I know it’s been barely any time, but like, if you ever wanted to, you could.” It’s been two months since he and Harry officially became _boyfriends._ It feels like it’s been so much longer, but he thinks that’s just because he’s so happy with Harry. Everything with Harry feels good.

“I can’t yet, Lou. I’m sure it would be great to actually live here with you, but there’s no way I could afford to help you with rent, like, ever, and I could never just abandon my flatmate in the middle of our lease.”

“Haz, you wouldn’t have to pay rent. I could count your incredible cooking as more than enough rent. Do you know how much weight I’ve gained since I stopped playing footie and started eating take out all the time? Like, an entire stone, Haz. This is like a dream come true.” He can’t see Harry, but he’s certain he’s rolling his eyes.

“Maybe we can talk about it again in a few months when my lease is up. Now come here and give me a kiss before we both have garlic breath.” Louis gets up and goes over to Harry and kisses him. He always tries to sneak peaks into the pots and pans to see what Harry’s cooking, but he’s enough of a menace to have brought over all of his opaque top lids. He knows it’s just that Harry likes to surprise him, but he always pouts.

 

The team is happy and Louis is happy. The season is slowly coming in to an end, but Louis isn’t sad like he’d thought he would be. He’s volunteered to do women’s football for the spring season, which wasn’t what he’d originally thought he would do, but he just isn’t sure he can let go of this part of his life.

Harry has started spending more time at his flat than at his own, with his clothes slowly mixing in with Louis’ and just leaving a little trace of himself everywhere in Louis’ flat. It’s only been four months, but Louis actually thinks he might be falling in love with Harry.

He’s just so much, so much sometimes that Louis can’t really pinpoint what he’s really done to be able to deserve someone so great in his life.

 

“Hey, H?”

“Hm?” Harry asks, but Louis’ not entirely sure he’s fully awake. He’s laying on his back, Louis’ head resting on his chest and listening to his heartbeat.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Lou. So much.” He still sounds tired, totally exhausted, but Louis can hear the sincerity in his voice. He beams and dreams of the way he’d said he loves him, over and over n repeat for his entire night.

 

Harry is the most incredible person he’s ever met. He’s the most supportive and certainly the nicest. His siblings all love him as soon as they meet him, the littler ones dragging him off and asking to braid his hair and paint his nails, while his mum forces him into the kitchen to set the table. “I cannot believe you have only just now brought this boy to meet us.” His mother says, her voice hushed.

“What do you mean?”

“I can tell you love him.” Louis smiles and sets the napkins out on each of the plates before setting the proper cutlery out, too.

“I do. I love him a lot.”

“Does he know?”

“Yeah. As of about three weeks ago.” Louis is smiling like an idiot when he hears Harry’s laugh from the other room, followed by three girly little giggles from his younger sisters. “I’m thinking about proposing in the next few months.”

“You should, dear.”

 

Harry says yes, when he does.

At their wedding, they promise to be there for each other for everything.

Harry, as the perfect gentleman he is, certainly keeps his promise.

He’s there when Louis’ team doesn’t make it to the playoffs that year, but he’s also there when they do the next five years. He’s there when they make it to higher competitions and he’s there right beside him when he falls on his bad ankle and isn’t able to coach for an entire season. He’s there when Louis brings home a ring and gets down on a knee and proposes and he’s there when they sign the papers to adopt their first daughter.

Louis is incredibly happy.


End file.
